


The Empty Nest

by RunRabbitRun



Category: Thief (Original Trilogy), Thief (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Death in childbirth (offscreen), Fatherhood, Snippets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2018-02-07 15:30:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1904232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunRabbitRun/pseuds/RunRabbitRun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"One tiny hand found Artemus’s thumb and closed around it in a surprisingly strong grip. He might as well have wrapped his hand around Artemus’s chest, because suddenly it was very hard to breathe. "</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Empty Nest

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a wee short indulgence I've had sitting on my hard drive for the past few weeks. I was actually cleaning out a bunch of old, abandoned stuff when this came up and I liked it too much to get rid of it. It's in no way related to my other Artemus and Garrett story, "Sharper than a Serpent's Tooth", but rather just a random 'What if' I wanted to explore. I'm not so much into the idea that a person can ONLY connect with a child if biology is involved, but I wanted to prod at Artemus's backstory and add some more MANPAIN to his relationship with Garrett. Because apparently I find that fun :P

The child is a surprisingly solid weight, curled in Artemus’s lap like a kitten. One small fist loosely grasps Artemus’s robes while the other is tucked under his round chin. He looks like most babies do: small, round, and pinkish with a shock of dark hair and clenched-shut eyes. Maude, the healer, insists he has Artemus’s nose, but the man himself can’t see it. To him, the boy is soft and fragile; pale silk stretched over a frame of blown glass. He can’t quite believe how he had a part in creating him. Only a small part, mind. Gwen did most of the work.

“Support his head,” Maude orders. She has her back to him and is putting away the rags and milk. Artemus doesn’t look up at her but tucks a hand under the boy’s head with infinite care. His dark hair feels like a duckling’s down. The baby yawns and blinks open clear eyes. He stares at Artemus for a few seconds; Artemus stares back, feeling his heart begin to beat hard and fast. The boy sticks his fingers in his mouth and makes a soft grumbling sound, eyeing Artemus with grave suspicion. Artemus isn't offended, only a impressed that a day old child can conjure up such a scalding look.

“He’s not going to bite,” Maude assures him. “Or scream. Probably. He’s quiet for a newborn. If we’re lucky he’ll stay quiet.”

“Quiet doesn’t necessarily mean peaceful. Or easy,” Artemus says. The boy grunts, as if in agreement. “Have you chosen a name?”

“Garrett,” Maude says. “His mother picked it out, not me. I was going to call him Lucas, but her choice seemed more appropriate.”

“ _Spear-warrior_ ,” Artemus recites. “From the old language.” He studies the boy’s (Garrett’s) features carefully, looking for the familiar olive skin, the pointed chin, the bright silvery eyes. His face is still too soft and round to tell much, but his baby-blue eyes might hold a hint of gray. Artemus can only hope. He hopes, more than anything, Garrett will be like Gwen.

They buried her in the lower tombs only a day after she died, as was the custom; wrapped in a dark shroud, bricked up into the wall, with only a small bronze plaque bearing her name. Artemus attended the burial, much to the consternation of the Elders. He’d wanted to bring the baby with him, to let him know his mother, but at the time Maude would not let Artemus in to the infirmary. She told him to go and come back later, after everyone was asleep.

The boy wriggles and whimpers softly. One tiny hand finds Artemus’s thumb and closes around it in a surprisingly strong grip. He might as well have wrapped his little hand around Artemus’s chest, because suddenly it’s very hard to breathe.

Maude sits down next to them. “You can’t keep him, you know that.”

Gwen would have kept him. Gwen would have cursed the Order, the Council, the Glyphs themselves and kept her child, rules be damned. She would have left the Order without a backwards glance. Artemus has no doubt that he would have followed her, if she'd asked. But Gwen isn’t here and Artemus knows himself for a coward, because all he can say is “I know.”

“I know a few people that could take him,” Maude says, plucking up the blankets Garrett has kicked off and tucking them gently around him.

“Not the Hammerites,” Artemus says sharply.

“What do you take me for? Of course not the Hammerites,” Maude snaps. She sighs, “Trust me, old friend, I wouldn’t do anything like that to any child, least of all yours.”

Artemus is silent.

“I’ll come back in the morning,” Maude says after a long pause. “It’s better this way, it really is. This is no place for a baby, and you… we need you here.”

“The prophecies are taking shape,” Artemus agrees. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’ll be back later,” Gwen says again. She stands up, but before she leaves she pets Garrett’s silky black hair. “He does have your nose,” she says, “But I’d wager he’s going to look just like her when he grows up.”

“Good,” Artemus says.


End file.
